Oh, if I could live four weeks longer! but no matter, no matter!

Autumn to winter, winter into spring, Spring into summer, summer into fall, - So rolls the changing year, and so we change; Motion so swift, we know not that w…

'Get out o' Mr. Fletcher's road, ye idle, lounging, little - ' 'Vagabond,' I think the woman (Sally Walkins, once my nurse,) was going to say, but she changed …

To-morrow is, ah, whose?

Time is the king of all men, he is their parent and their grave, and gives them what he will and not what they crave.

The irrevocable Hand That opes the year's fair gate, doth ope and shut The portals of our earthly destinies; We walk through blindfold, and the noiseless doors…

The appeal to heaven breaks off. The petals begin to fall, in self-forgiveness. It is a flower. On this mountainside it is dying.